Boom headshot! Not really but...
UPDATE! This is, of course, the result of the previous chapters activities.
Personal querey: as a favor to me, topdog, please recommend my story to peoples! I would like to have lots of feedback so I can make the dang story better. Grawr.
"Wha…what happened?"
Kuki was lying face first in a puddle of her own drool, splatters of blood adorned the area around her along with a bruised and hunched over Craig. She could imagine what terrible things happened while she was passed out.
She managed to lift herself up on all fours, silky black hair spilling around her face, "Craig…" she tried to speak but she had a bad case of cotton mouth. He palms were sweaty and the skin on her knuckles had somehow been rubbed raw.
He looked jolted a bit when she said his name. For the last few hours she had been throwing him around like a pin ball with kicks and spins no person in A.P.P.L.E could pull off. He wasn't informed that Kuki was a seventh degree black belt in kung fu and a third in Tae Kwon Do when he volunteered for the job. Because of her he now had a black eye, what felt like two broken ribs, and dented shin that would hurt like hell for at least three weeks.
Craig adjusted the ice pack on his head and chuckled a bit out of amusement. Not that anything was particularly funny around him at the moment. Furniture was beyond destroyed, there were linens that would never be free of his blood stains and above all that she had ripped his favorite shirt but he chuckled.
Kuki had him screaming like a little girl within the first ten minutes the stone was activated. It started innocently enough. According to the plan, the TND dorks had to all be paired up and secluded from the others. Because the boulder, Hoagie, was suddenly M.I.A Craig volunteered to be with the extra. It truly surprised all of them when Wally snuck into Abby's room and just stayed there, not for the game but for his own purposes. Craig was fine with it just because he knew if he had to be with Abby she would have stabbed him or something—she was Cree's younger sister after all. So he got stuck with the sweet, loving, little, cutie one, so he thought. All the other A.P.P.L.E operatives on the job, once given the signal from Cree, cleared out of the lounge room and left him and Kuki to their own resources. It was hard to get her angry, he reflected.
He made fun of her heritage. Brought up the fact that she was a bit immature and wasn't the best operative; never was, isn't now and never will be. She brushed all of that to the side easily with a sigh, a nod, or a grunt. The second he insulted rainbow monkeys—it was on.
She had pounced from her chair and onto him, causing them both to topple from the bar and to the hardwood floor. That was bruise number one. She was yelling, scratching, and spitting everywhere. What made it worse was the fact that she was drunk on top of angry so there was no hope of her holding back due to moral sensitivity. Craig instantly regretted his choice to stay.
"Craig…" she said his name again in a hoarse whisper. He looked at her but said nothing. Kuki took the look as his response, "What happened?"
Craig thought about what to say for a brief moment. Cree had given him a list of appropriate answers but he didn't want to say any of them. He wanted to call her bitch and get her back for all the abuse she dealt out to him while she was being an angry drunkard. However, his fear of Cree and Chad far surpassed the vengeance he wanted. He picked phrase three, "Party got out of control last night," he gave her a fake laugh, "People were going buck wild," he added.
Kuki, finally on her wobbly feet, looked around the room. There was toilet paper, broken bottles of Bacardi and shreds of fabric everywhere she turned. A shot glass, sitting alone on the bar counter, caught her eye. It was the last thing she touched before… before… Well she couldn't really remember. There were hours of her life she couldn't account for at the moment.
After a brief moment of silence she nodded and laughed to herself, "I guess I over did it a bit, huh?" she was searching for answers within herself as she said it.
Craig looked at her for only a moment, realizing that the rumors were true. People affected by the red stone usually don't remember what they did while under the influence. She didn't even remember almost killing him last night. He was slightly insulted but mostly relieved. So he laughed with her, "Yeah."
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Cree and Chad lay in her second floor bedroom. They had just made love for the fourth time and now they couldn't stop looking at each other. Chad ran his fingers over her mocha brown skin, tracing random patters and looking straight into her eyes, "You're angry, Cree," he said simply, never taking his blue eyes off her. Today they were a light blue, meaning he was happy or pleased to be there with her.
Cree smiled, "No I'm not."
Chad knew better. He had liked Cree since before they were thirteen and running from the decommissioning machine. True, angry seemed to be her default but right at that moment she wasn't just angry, she was hurting. He saw a storm behind her eyes and he couldn't imagine what was causing it… unless…
"Is this about your sister?" he asked her bluntly as he removed his hand from her arm. He knew it must be hard for Cree, being against her family and all. No one but Chad knew how Cree managed to work around ever getting into a tousle with her sister in the field. Because of her commanding post she could send whoever she wanted out instead of going herself. He didn't mind it, in fact it never really even mattered to him.
Cree sat up suddenly, bringing the blanket up with her so she wasn't exposed to the cool morning air, "Chad, nothing gets between me and my work for Father."
"Yeah, yeah, I know the speech, Cree." He cut her off. She was probably the best solder in A.P.P.L.E weather she knew it or not, but she still had her weaknesses—the biggest being Abby. "If you want to leave," he caressed her chin, "I'll tell the squad to pack up and move out. Anyone who questions the order will be punished."
She smiled and placed her hand on top of his, "Always so bloodthirsty," she laughed, "But, I will finish the experiments for Father."
Chad frowned. He could sense the unwillingness to continue in Cree, she was suffering and battling against herself. He slowly sank back down into the covers, wrapping himself up like a mummy and then sighed, "Fine. Father wants the red stone report by tomorrow and the blue stone experiment completed my next week."
Cree said nothing as he rolled over to his side and starting snoring, she was happy to have him there with her, supporting her even when she isn't completely in the game. That was Chad, her support beam whenever she needed.
Her cell phone rang.
Maurice…
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Time bomb by Beck rang through the room. The sound bounce of the walls and over debris in the floor, eventually reaching the hole in the bathroom door and forcing through, straight into Abby's ears. She stirred from her fetal position on the floor taking in a huge gulp of air she didn't know she needed.
She opened her eyes, immediately wanting to shut them again. She rose up a bit, thinking if she changed her angle the sight before her would seem less gruesome—she was wrong.
Not two feet from her lay Wally, his usually beautiful tan skin besmirched by black and blue, puffy and red splotches. She couldn't see his face, just his arms, legs and his back. One of his hands, still oozing blood slowly, lay on hers and she pulled it away faster than she thought she could move. She was in shock, What happened here? She asked herself, terrified.
She crawled to him, although every instinct was telling her to run away and get help. Gently she ran her fingers across his arms, checking how big and how deep the gashes were. She then gave his legs a look over; they weren't that bad, minor scratches only. But his back was another story.
The entire back of his shirt was missing, like he got into a fight with a werewolf and lost. There were bruises and scratches, very deep and still leaking blood. She guessed that the injuries must be hours old because most of it was dried and caked onto his skin. She gingerly shoved her hands underneath him, with the intention of turning him over, until he suddenly shuttered and gasped.
She pulled her hands back, letting the entirety of his weight fall back to the floor. "Ouch," Wally said in a harsh whisper.
Abby didn't say a word; there was nothing she could say. Somehow she knew that she was the one who did this Wally. She may not remember doing it but she felt it in the very core of her self. She put a hand on the back of Wally's head, the only part that wasn't bleeding, scabbed over, or bruised as far as she could tell and spoke softly, "Wally…" she whispered to him, "Wally I'm so sorry." And she meant it. Whatever she had done to him was not deserved at all. Still, she couldn't put her finger on what happened in the last few hours.
She remembered sitting in her room, alone, in darkness after being pissed about what Wally did to her in hide and seek. She remembered the visit from Maurice, she had been happy to see him after so long, happy to have his comforting embrace even if it was for a short while. She remembered him suddenly running off for no reason and then… Wally came in. From then on it was a big, black, inconclusive blank with no word box.
Wally's hand twitched and he groaned, trying to move, "Abby," he spoke her name like it was a holy prayer. Even in his battered state he was worried more about her than his own well being, "Are you okay?" he managed to get out, getting on his knees.
His shoulders and knees popped as he straightened himself out. The dried blood on his back began to chip off and from it came new, fresh blood. He rolled his neck; it cracked as well, and began rolling his shoulders, backwards then forwards. He was playing off his pain very well. He turned Abby and heard her gasp, "What?" he questioned.
She touched his face, "Your face is all bloody and your eye…" she couldn't even speak at this point since she was trying to keep from crying. His beautiful face was bashed, crashed and busted up and she knew it was her fault. There wasn't a doubt in her mind.
Wally stood up, regretting it as his body cried out in silent pain, turned and looked in the mirror, "Blimey!" he laughed at his reflection. He didn't think it was funny but he had to make Abby feel better. He felt like everything was his fault.
"Stop laughing!" she yelled, "This isn't funny!" she stood up despite the obvious protesting from her limbs and ran up to him. She ignored the scratches on her face because by comparison, Wally had it much worse. "What did I do to you?" she asked.
Wally laughed again, "Don't flatter yourself, Sheila, I got a bit too drunk last night, that's all." He stated.
Abby cocked her head to the side, confused, "Wally, you and I didn't drink any alcohol last night." She stated. Because they didn't.
Wally made a sweeping motion of the bathroom, signaling that she should take a look around, "Bacardi 151, stuff messes you up, Abby," he said to her, "You were a lightweight to begin with so that must have set you over the top and then some."
Abby looked around the bathroom. There was a cracked bottle of Bacardi 151 on the floor and a glass half full of the dark liquid sitting on the edge of the tub. She peered out of the hole in the bathroom door and into the main room. The covers were sprawled on the floor, pillow cases torn in to shreds. Her bookcase was a pile of scrap wood and her childhood sitting chair was no more.
In the middle of it was a bottle of Smirnoff the size of her calves, the whole thing empty.
Still, she didn't remember taking one sip of anything alcoholic the night before. She didn't remember taking a shot or even sipping a on a frosty glass of beer. No licking, no tipping, no sucking. None of it was clicking. But she had so much that she became abusive then it's no wonder she woke up with a headache and no memory of the previous night. But…she's never…before this, and it didn't make any sense.
Abby looked back at Wally, her stomach falling again as he tried washing everything off his face. With the utmost of control she walked over, grabbed a wash cloth from the rack and ran warm water on it. "Lemme help you," it wasn't a statement; it was her way of begging.
Wally only looked at her as she rang the excess water out the cloth and brought it oh so slowly to his face. It stung on contact but he stayed focused on her. Her eyes were so intense, a fire behind them, like tending to Wally's wounds was her only skill and she was going to perfect it right then and there. She started where the most dried blood was, around his nose area and down his chin. She was careful not to rub to hard and extra sensitive around areas with exposed wounds.
Abby was focused, more focused than she had ever been in school, more focused than she had ever been on a mission. Wally was the only thing in her universe at that point in time. He didn't move an inch the entire time she was cleaning him up. He didn't speak but he did stare, intensely, at her for a long time. She thought he was going to burn holes through her forehead. She was able to ignore it.
When she was finished with his face she dipped the cloth back under the running water to clean it, "Alright," she said quietly, "Now let me do your back."
Wally didn't move. He had heard her but he didn't move. "Stop it," was all he said.
Abby shook a little bit from the way he said it. The tone in his voice seemed to strike a memory far, far away. She laughed it off, "Don't worry, I'm not squeamish."
Wally reached under the water and took the cloth right out of her hands, "Stop pretending like you care. I'll do it myself." He then began dabbing his arm with it, cleaning the blood off there.
Abby ripped it back, worried that she may have scratched him again, "What?" she asked, "I'm not pretending so let me help you!"
"I don't believe you. I can't believe you." He refused to look at her.
Abby sagged a bit, "Wha… what do I have to do to make you believe me. I'm here covered in, what I can only assume is, your blood. I want to take care of you."
Wally shook his head, blond hair flying about, "No. That proves nothing; you'd do that for a stranger."
She was confused but Wally's statement was true. She would help whoever needed helping, that was just her way. "Wally. I care very deeply for y…"
She never got to finish her sentence as his lips came crashing down on hers. He wrapped one bloody arm around her back, feeling almost every scratch and gash open back up. But he didn't care, he needed that one kiss.
Abby, eyes wide open, couldn't believe what was happening. Hoagie… Kuki… they suddenly stopped mattering to her. They had no relevance. Wally had that effect on her, to her dismay. So slowly her body relaxed into his, her eyes closed and her arms went up and around his neck and she let the sweet energy that was his flow through her.
The kiss was soft at first, growing into this gigantic flurry of hands running through hair, grabbing at hips and wanting more. Abby pulled away for air at some point only to have her neck completely devoured by Wally's kisses. He paused and looked at her, "I believe you," he panted, "I believe you care." And when Abby looked him straight in the eyes and smiled, he melted a bit inside.
He reached down, cupped her firm bottom and lifter her so that she was sitting on the edge of the sink counter. He grabbed her face with both hands and slowly brought her face back to his.
Abby let out a soft moan as he slid his hands from her face, down her neck and down her arms before grabbing her hips and grinding them into his. It was like he just couldn't have enough of her. She wasn't exactly complaining about it.
Her phone was still going off in her room but she ignored it, she was, at the moment, busy. We've got a time bomb, we've got a time bomb, we've got a time bomb na nana na! We've got a warning light, we've got a warning light, we pull the plug and we na nana na. There's a time bomb tickin'…
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Hoagie sat in his cell, alone and cold. That's all he had been since he got to the facility for his treatment.
They say his rehabilitation happens in two steps. One, break them down and two, build them back up again. He was in the beginning of his break down stage; in a cell with only a cot that was far to small for him to sleep on and a rusty old can they call a toilet. The cell was made of nothing but rocks that were cemented together, no window. There was only a small door ten feet in front of him with a slot for him to receive food. They had, quite literally, put him in a criminal's place.
He was thankful for the wide space of the cell though. At least he could pace around for hours upon hours; he could exercise and stretch out of the floor as he pleased.
On the cot next to him sat a blue bundle, it was one of Abby's shirts. He picked it up and fondled it between his fingers, trying to imagine her in it. He missed her. He had even called her a few times but she never answered. As promised before he left he had written, he knew they were at the lake house this week but he wrote to her anyways. She responded to one of his letters from last week with a full page letter—he wrote three pages front to back.
He wasn't angry though, no, they taught how not to be angry and punished him when he got angry. He didn't want to be punished anymore.
Looking back, Hoagie couldn't believe what he had put Abby through. Hitting her? When the hell did he start hitting women? He thought he was such a gentleman… yeah right.
So far the lessons were simple, how to stay calm even when you feel like bursting and how to find other way of letting your frustrations out. He listen when in class, he listened with the utmost of attention and took notes, detailed notes.
So with a sigh of disappointment that once again, no mail came for him, he sat Abby's shirt down and crossed his legs Indian style. He put his hands together as though he were about to say a prayer and began chanting. It was part of his nightly ritual since arriving there.
Clear your head of angry thoughts, he said to himself, nothing that makes you angry is ever good. Think of happy things.
Abby's face popped into his mind first. He remember the day he asked her to be his girlfriend. He had just come back from fat camp and never, in a million jillion years, did he think she'd say yes. He had liked her for so long that he was beginning to think she was just one of those unattainable guys. Who was he kidding, every guy in school wanted to ask Abby out. Some actually worked up the nerve to ask her. There were only one or two that actually got to go on a date with her but ultimately she either shot you down on your first try or busted your face later in the date for trying to go to far.
Their first date was at the ice cream parlor, they were thirteen so going by themselves wasn't an issue. Hoagie had saved up all his allowance money, just in case she wanted a burger or something while there. She ordered a strawberry milkshake and a bacon cheeseburger with potato wedges, not fries, she hated fries. He had a vanilla milkshake and regular burger with onion rings—bad choice.
The date went fine. They talked about business at first; working for the TND now and about where their latest assignments had taken them. He remembered her saying something about going to Mexico and chilling with the newly on board Mexican operatives. He told her that Rachel had him on tech detail until they were sure everything was okay… everything meaning they were making sure he was okay because his brother was now in critical condition in a TND hospital.
Tommy, poor little, newly instated Tommy. Why did it have to be him? Why did they have to go after him, he was so young.
No, Hoagie stopped that thought train in its tracks, not the right way to go. What else did she talk about that night, Hoagie, what else? He strained to find the rest of the memory.
Abby was sitting there sipping on her milkshake and Hoagie asked what she had been up to all summer. Since he was gone he really didn't know what she did the entire time.
She smiled and told him about this video gaming competition she entered and won. She called the game Death Strike Zero or something; he was never as a big of a video game buff as she was. She took a sip of her milkshake again and told Hoagie about how Wally entered without telling her first and ended up almost beating her, almost.
Wally…
The same Wally who would grow up and try to take his Abby away. The same Wally who may have put his stupid little Aussie nose where it didn't belong. The same Wally who his Abby looks at with such admiration.
Hoagie lost it with that thought. He got off the cot, picked it up and flung it all the way across the room. It hit the door, causing a loud, echoing, crash that he didn't seem to notice. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving up and down. The cot wasn't heavy or anything but the pressure on his lungs seemed to increase as more thoughts of Wally came to mind.
"Shut up in there!" came a voice from outside his door, his watcher.
Hoagie said nothing. He curled into a ball and, noticing it laying there, pulled Abby's shirt in close, closing his eyes and smelling it. He then went back to sitting Indian style, hands clasped together and began chanting, "Abby is mine. Abby is mine…"
Oh snapskis! Read and Review please.
Also this is the longest chapter in the story [applause] and the song Time bomb is by Beck. check it out, you'll like it.